


Restraint/Indulgence: One and the Same

by Vrunka



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Light Bondage, Lingerie, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 03:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18682975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrunka/pseuds/Vrunka
Summary: The bra is blue and white and lace. He must have had it custom ordered, the colors match the Overwatch uniforms just a tad too well.





	Restraint/Indulgence: One and the Same

**Author's Note:**

> One of my submissions for “Fuck the Payload” the Overwatch Kink Anthology. It’s really nice to get these all posted finally!!

His skin is still soft and pink with memories of the shower. Lingering dampness in his thick, golden hair. Glittering little jewels in curls between his pecs.

Pecs which have been pushed together by the lace and silk bra. Blue and white. He must have had it custom ordered, the colors match the Overwatch uniforms just a tad too well.

Gabriel grins. Leans forward, balances his weight on his knees to better survey the commander standing before him. The blush on Jack’s cheeks. The sheen of his skin.

“Wow, Jack,” he says.

Maybe Jack expects an insult—some barb at the kink, some tease over the way Jack is already hard in the panties—because he bristles just the littlest bit, shoulders shifting. Not that Gabe would, insult that is, and they both know it but old habits die hard and this is a card it has taken months for Gabe to sneak from Jack’s hand.

“You look good, Jackie,” Gabe continues, nodding, assuring. He doesn’t stand, Jack hasn’t told him to yet, but he relaxes, lets his weight settle on his butt instead. He feels a little predatory, a wolf, come to consume the virgin maid. All trussed up in silks for him.

Jack bites his lip as he shifts, toes turning inward. His strong thighs bracketed so prettily in the lace of the garters, tiny buckles in silver catching the light. Gabe longs to touch. To snap the elastic against Jack’s skin, feel him tremble and groan.

But it’s not that sort of game today.

“What do you need from me,” Gabe asks, a desperate edge to it he doesn’t quite intend. Jack in heels and lace and stockings getting to him more than he thought it would. “Tell me what you want?”

Jack seems to consider. His Adam’s apple bobs in time with his thinking.

“Hands behind your back,” he says, finally, voice a deep and rough rumble from somewhere down in his chest. If the hard cock leaking against the front of the lingerie weren’t enough to tip Gabe off to how very into it Jack is, the tone of his voice would be.

Jack only sounds like that when he really, really wants something.

Gabe complies with the request. Grinning as he does so. Teeth sharp against his lip. He grips his own wrist, left over right. He tenses, and the tendons go taut like iron beneath his own fingers.

“You’ll stay like that,” Jack says. Not a question. Gabe nods. He will. He’s always been good at following orders.

He’s well aware too of how the postion pulls his shirt across his chest. The press of his nipples obscene in the Under Armor. Jack’s gaze flirting across to each one, tongue peeking idly at the corner of his lips. Thinking of Gabe in a bra, perhaps, lace and silk and underwire—but next time, Gabe drags his thoughts away from the image. That can be next time.

Jack’s fingers slide against his scalp as he steps closer, cradling Gabe’s head gently. His cock bumps against Gabe’s nose; the heels have him taller than usual, just slightly off-balance from their usual routine.

The lace tickles against Gabe’s cheek, it must be torture on Jack’s dick, chaffing at the sensitive head. Gabe wants to soothe it with his tongue, wants to lave against the expensive material until it loses its bite, until Jack is a cursing mess, but he won’t.

It’s about self-restraint and how Jack gets off on Gabe holding back just for him.

Or something.

Jack’s eyes are practically glittering as he just rubs himself lightly against Gabe’s face. Cheek and closed mouth and facial hair. Jack’s own cheeks are bright, furious red. His breath hitches.

“Open for me.”

Gabe does.

Instantly. His jaw drops, he huffs a warm breath against the panty-trapped erection. His teeth catch on the elastic as Jack presses in, in, ever inward to the welcoming heat of Gabe’s mouth.

“Oh Gabe.”

The whole of their relationship could never be summed up by just that; but Gabe wishes that it could. It would be enough for him: him being everything for Jack.

They only stay this way for a moment. A heartbeat or three. Then Jack pulls away, shaking slightly, material of the underwear gone see through over his cock. Wet from spit. Obscene, Gabe has to drag his eyes away from it.

“Something wrong?” Gabe asks. His voice is rough, husky, whiskey over rocks has always been Jack’s favorite drink.

Jack shakes his head. “Shirt off. Then come here.”

As he seats himself at the edge of the bed, Gabe slips out of the shirt. Lets it fall to the wayside. When he moves his shoulders give a dull ache, his cock twinges in his fatigues.

Gabe scoots closer when Jack spreads his legs, gets one of those dangerous heels pressed against his cock in admonishment.

“Not so fast,” Jack says. Grinning. Grinding the heel down just the tiniest bit, watching like something hungry as Gabe fights not to thrust against the pressure. “You’re close enough,” he says. “Arms back.”

Once again, left over right. Discipline. The foot rolls against him, lighter this time, the ball of the foot instead of the spike of the heel; rewards for his discipline.

And then it is gone.

And Jack is moving, twisting. Rolling to his stomach, arm bracing on the mattress to keep himself level. The globes of his ass framed in lace just as nicely as his thighs are; and so conveniently eye level here with Gabe on his knees.

The tingling promise of what is to come, foreshadowed in the way Jack sways back just the tiniest bit.

Gabe licks his lips.

Jack’s pink, healthy, glorious skin beckons him.

Patience though. Patience.

That is what this is all about.

“Come on, Gabe,” Jack says, tipping his head to glance over his shoulder, “you don’t need me to spell this part out.”

And Gabe doesn’t. Though Jack worked up and bossy and so, so lewd is one of Gabe’s favorite things. He doesn’t need it though. This part is as natural as breathing.

He pushes his face forward, cranes his neck to run the edge of his teeth along the lace, tracing the perfect plump swell of Jack’s ass. It earns him another sigh, a high pitched sort of keen, Jack slurring over his name.

Gabe noses at the panties, huffs a breath. It would be easier with his hands, but he wouldn’t dare. He flexes his wrist; he does not let go.

It only takes a few minutes of his rubbing to stir Jack into action; Jack’s hands shaking as he pulls the elastic out of the way, opening himself to Gabe’s pleasure.

“You’re gonna stretch them out, Jackie,” Gabe says against his skin, right where his thigh meets his butt. “Ruin them.”

Jack grunts, his fingers scrabble at Gabe’s head, nails catching on his brow, his short trimmed hair. “No talking.”

Easy enough. Gabe has better things to be doing with his mouth anyway. Now that Jack is displayed so pretty for him. Soft and clean from his shower. The acrid taste of soap against Gabe’s tongue; shocking at first, as it always is, but Gabe pushes on. He swipes his tongue in broad, flat strokes against Jack’s ass, licks a stripe from Jack’s perineum to the puckered entrance and back, until all he can taste is Jack Jack Jack.

Familiar earthy musk.

Gabe’s eyes flutter shut as he thrusts his tongue in and not just against. He can’t get very deep, not with his arms like they are, but it’s enough. Jack groans and heaves and pulls at his own skin all the same. A knee beneath him to bear his weight, both hands now gripping his ass and holding it open for Gabe.

And the sounds.

The sounds.

Gabe’s name and curses and endearments.

Gabe flicks his tongue in a parody of fucking and Jack shudders and shakes like it is programmed into him. Unrestrained. An absolute vision. Or probably. Gabe is too close and too preoccupied to really appreciate it. He moves his tongue is circles, cranes his neck to get deeper, closer, more intimate. He wants to take Jack apart until the Commander is nothing but a shaking, drooling mess and he’s almost there, he’s almost there, he’s almost—

Jack is thrusting back into him, rocking his ass against Gabe’s face in a way that is more than just a little desperate.

“Please,” he is saying. “Please, please.”

One of his legs, twists at an angle that must be painful and catches Gabe in the ribs, pulls him closer. Almost throws him off-balance, almost. His grip on his wrists shifts but does not break.

“Shh,” he soothes, disengaging from Jack’s ass to breath against Jack’s desperate fingers. Kissing them. Nipping at the nails. “I’m here, Jack, I’m not going anywhere.”

And he’s not.

Another breath, a moment, two, and then he’s back to it. Like he was born for it, like it is just as enjoyable for him as it is for Jack.

And in reality; it truly is.


End file.
